Stink Bug
by xxthewayatchawritexx
Summary: After her brother's death, she fell into depression, and simply couldn't find her way out. She was lost, like a child in a maze. The only difference was that she didn't know how deep a hole she was in. Imagine her surprise when a so called, "psychiatrist" shows up at her door, ready to throw down the rope.
1. Chapter 1

**Stink Bug**

Stink bugs.

What's the first word that pops into your head when you hear those words? Most of you would say something like,

Preposterous

Disgusting

Or even on occasion,

An abomination to the world's initial insect population.

Oh yeah, I've heard that one.

And these are all very true. Stink bugs _are_ preposterous, _are_ disgusting, and are _especially_ an abomination to this world. I mean, a bug wafting out its remarkably untamable stench once it has been squashed, flattened, or even eaten? That, my friend, is Bologna.

I hated stink bugs with a burning passion.

I was the pharaoh, ordering my guards (my mother) to slaughter each and every one of the Hebrews (a stink bug who just happened to find it's way on my window sill). But no matter what I did, they always came back, and back, and back.

It was difficult. Getting rid of them, you know. I don't know how it happened, but they caught a piece of my heart and wouldn't dare to let go. I tried to pry it from his- I mean their- greedy hands, but they latched on like a mother to her child.

Ok. Fine. I think it's obvious it's not a stink bug I'm talking about, but a man. Pure and simple.

I know I say that stink bugs are my absolute nemesis, but that summer, I managed to find a place for one in my heart.

So what happened, you ask? What happened between this mysterious trespasser and I?

Well...Life

 **Authors note**

 **Hello! I'm back with a new story that I'm absolutely passionate about! Take a wild guess at how I came up with this story idea. Yep, I saw a** _ **preposterous**_ **stink bug on my bed. Exciting, right? Any who, I have a question for you! What** _ **is**_ **the first thing that pops into your head when you hear the words, "stink bug"? Tell me in the comments! Until next time,**

 **XxX**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Starting this story will be hard. Very hard, actually. Because in the beginning of this story, _my_ story, something very bad happened.

My brother had just died.

It was a cruel, inexplicable death that made the daisy's and daffodils weep tears of sorrow.

The news had spread like wildfire. I wasn't surprised. Caleb was more than cherished in our town, with that charming smile of his and welcoming aura that drew the people to him.

That first night of his death, I could hear it. The sobs of my parents, the neighbors, I even heard a couple mournful howls. Everyone was grieving. Except me. Not even a sigh left from my lips. Just hallow air. This concerned people. And when I say concerned, I don't mean the pitying kind, I mean the aggressive kind. The one where everyone glares at you from behind for behind so, "cold hearted," and "emotionless". I couldn't blame them for thinking that of me, because that's exactly what I was. Empty.

But I went on. I graduated two months after Caleb's death. I mean, so did everyone really. All I remembered was the announcer calling my name.

After that I started taking some classes at Pepperdine University, and things were fine. At least I thought things were fine. One evening, we (my father, mother, and I) were in the middle of dinner. I munched quietly on the steamed vegetables, every now and then stealing a glance at the empty chair in front of me. The tension was there, I just didn't feel it.

It was like the bubble had finally bursted. A perfectly ok bubble that I was perfectly ok with.

"Do you even miss him?"

That voice pierced through the deafening silence. It sounded anguished. Hurt. It was my mother's.

I stopped the fork's journey to my mouth.

I stared into her bright blue eyes. I was always so fond of those eyes. They held kindness and sincerity, something I could've never been capable of.

"What?"

I knew exactly what she meant. I was stone cold. I could even hear it in my own voice. Like I didn't even care. I did care.

"Natalie-" my father tried. He held his hand up in a desperate attempt to stop her before she said something he knew she'd regret.

"No, Andrew."

That was all.

She faced me again.

"Do you know what has happened?"

I blanked. Was this really her? Was she actually as mad as she sounded? My mother hadn't had an angry bone in her body, so that couldn't have been true.

"Your brother died just two months ago, Beatrice! And you have nothing to say about that?"

It wasn't a question. It was an accusation, and her words were venom.

"No."

I didn't expect her to do anything. I didn't _want_ her to do anything. She would just continue eating her meal, and she would dismiss me when dinner was finally over. But she didn't do that. No, she did much more.

She stood up from her chair and leaned across the table until she was close. It was all so quick. Like a squirrel, scampering across the lawn after it had just found the acorn it had been searching for.

She slapped me hard across my cheek. Very hard.

I crashed to the ground, my seat tumbling with me.

"How could you! How could you! How could you!" She screamed as she threw fists at my chest.

I would've reached out to stop her, but I could see she was having a moment. Tears streaked her cheeks and her lips were peeled back, wails omitting from her throat. My father's lean arms wrapped around her waist, and she was lifted off of me and carried to bed.

The next morning I woke with a bruised cheek bone and a sore chest.

My parents were more worried for me than I thought.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and they had gone to the grocery store since we were out of milk. I was up in my room, studying for an upcoming English lit. quiz. I was so in tune with the book I was reading, I hadn't realized someone was knocking at the door until a muffled voice traveled through the house.

My feet padded against the tile flooring as I made my way to the front entrance. I opened the door cautiously.

"Hey."

 **Authors note**

 **Mmmmmmmm...I wonder who that could be (wink, wink). Please tell me what you think of the story so far in the comments. Until next time,**

 **XxX**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I don't think people had realized how close my brother and I had become. But how could they? They were always so caught up in each other's lives that they couldn't see the ones around them. What will _they_ have for dinner, what shoes will _they_ buy, what will _they_ do once their brother is dead. I think I know the answer to that one. They would wallow in their sorrows and throw themselves a good, long pity party. That's what everyone does. The truth is, they didn't actually know him. None of them did. Not like I did, anyways.

Anyone who's everyone knew that I wasn't exactly a jolly person. Hell, I never once cracked a smile in public. But I could in front of Caleb. I could do anything I wanted when I was with him. He wouldn't judge me. He didn't judge. He was a nurturer, like my mother, but honest. That's what I liked. He told it how he saw it and never regretted a single word.

So when he died, I made a pact with myself. I would be more like my brother. For me, and for the people around me. I would be honest, selfless, kind, smart, and brave. I would do it for him.

"How are you?"

He spoke as if we were old friends. As if we hadn't seen each other in ages. I barely knew him.

"Fine, and you?"

"Fantastic."

"Ok."

Our conversation had been bland, yes, but there was something there. I wasn't quite sure what. A feeling, maybe.

"How's school?"

I blinked. I knew that question was strange, considering I had no clue who he was or where he came from, but I just shrugged.

"Its alright. It's nice to have some independence, you know."

I wasn't sure why, but I felt oddly comfortable around this man. In a way, he was like me. On the outside. Same posture, same level headed attitude. Same eyes. Well, almost the same. His were darker, like the ocean when it's about to storm.

He nodded his head

"It is nice, isn't it?"

"Yeah, definitely."

The silence was appropriate, really. We had absolutely nothing to talk about. I sat across him in the living room. My spine was rigid. I suppose from his brick heavy gaze. Seriously. This guy wouldn't stop staring at me. At my face. He examined me like a scientist would a newfound chemical. His eyes held interest and befuddlement. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. Finally, he spoke.

"Your perplexing."

A knock sounded through the house. Startled, and not just by the noise,I jumped out of the conversation and opened the door.

"We got mil-" my mother stopped when she saw the blue eyed man sitting on her love seat. I expected her to be confused, mad even. I really didn't expect her to greet him. She showcased one of her dazzling smiles and bellowed a warm,

"Mr. Eaton, how kind of you to join us. I didn't know you'd be coming today."

He grinned back, shaking her hand firmly as he replied,

"Well, I thought it would be nice to check up. Beatrice and I were just having a nice chat."

I almost snorted.

"Oh?" My mother's voice raised a key.

"Well why don't you stay for dinner then?"

The dinner scene wasn't at all like the one the other night. There was no tension in the air besides mine. But I'm sure my parents didn't notice. They were speaking animatedly with one another. My father and mother, I mean. "Mr. Eaton" was just listening intently, occasionally sneaking a glance my way. It was strange; having someone other than Caleb sit in that seat. It didn't feel right. Like we were committing a crime just by letting him into our house.

I looked up. Right into the stormy ocean. Oops...

We stared at each other for awhile. This time I was the one examining him. He had thick, dark eyebrows that looked like they needed a good weed whacking. his nose was hooked with a straight, broad nasal bone. And his lips were full and luscious, completely inviting. His smile grew wider as he realized where my eyes were directed.

He opened his mouth to say something, but my mother beat him to it. It's always her.

"So, Beatrice. Your father and I have something to tell you."

Uh oh.

" I'm just going to come out and say it. We all know that your depressed-"

"I'm not depressed." I interjected

"Beatrice, please. Ever since Caleb-...ever since your brother passed away, you've been different."

"I've been fine."

"You _are_ depressed. I did my research and it said that-"

"Oh and because you go on webMD means your a doctor now?" I spat at her

"Beatrice, what were trying to say is that we care for you. A lot." My father poured water on the sizzling fire.

"We want you back, kiddo." He used the nickname he gave me when I was younger. I almost melted.

"So, in order to get you back, we called in some help."

Help? Don't you have to actually try first? All they had done was give me shaming looks of disapproval. My mother wiped her mouth with a napkin and set it down gently on her plate. I couldn't help but notice how smug she looked when she did that.

"I'm sure you've been wondering who this is," she said, gesturing to the man who stared down at his lap like a child would after doing something wrong.

"He will be spending quite a lot of time with you for a couple of weeks."

"This is your psychiatrist, Tobias Eaton."

 **Authors note**

 **These upcoming chapters are going to be so uplifting and heart warming(I hope). I'm just so excited. Tell me in the comments what you guys think of this. Until next time,**

 **XxX**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I stared at the suds that washed upon the shore every couple of seconds like my life depended on it. I studied the soft, white foam and the way it slowly vanished into the sand before my eyes. The water caressed my feet and withdrew the grains beneath them.

"What's the point of this?" I asked Tobias

He tilted his head to the side

"I just thought it would be nice. Your lucky you live on the beach, you know. People would die for this location."

I couldn't help but notice the use of his words.

"Someone _did_ die." I mumbled

I knew he was looking at me with that same expression again. The one that said, "oh you poor thing! Here, have a puppy!".

"I'm sorry."

Yeah, definitely didn't see _that_ one coming.

"Don't be."

I knew he meant it as a peace offering, but I saw it as the beginning of a war. A bloody one.

"You don't have to be here, you know."

"I want to be here."

"No," I snapped my head towards him

"You don't. You can leave. I won't tell my parents,"

"And I don't need a psychiatrist."

He surprised me by saying,

"I know you don't."

My spirits raised a meter.

"You just need a little nudge."

And then they flew back down, bits and pieces splattering on the walls of the trench as it hit rock bottom. Nudge, my ass.

"Please," I scoffed

He chuckled

"Look, I'm good at what I do, really. I'm sure I can get you where you want to be-"

"Your good at what you do?"

"...yes, very good."

Cocky mother-

"How many...how you say, _patients_ do you have."

His eyelashes batted against the skin under his eyes. He spluttered and slid his hands in his pockets. Bingo.

"Well..uh...just-just you..."

"Mmph. That's funny," I cocked my head to the right

"If your _soo_ incredibly good with your job, then why don't you have more clients, Dr. Eaton?" I basked in the glorious victory of this battle. One down, one million to go. Or however many battles it took to get rid of him.

"Your an overweening man with an ego the size of your forehead,"

He subconsciously glanced at his hairline.

"Here's something to brag about, you just lost your one and only client within the first twenty four hours of meeting. That's gotta be a record or something. Now go back to Missouri, or Mississippi, or wherever your from,"

"Minnesota." He glumly corrected

"Whatever! Your services are no longer needed."

I strutted away like the badass that I was, and like my brother had done so many times, I didn't regret a single heart crushing word that I had said.

I was thanking the Lord for my parent's absences that night. After I banished "the psychiatrist" from my land, something awful and lingering settled at the base of my stomach. Like I said before, there was no way that I'd regret what I had said to that egotistical son of a-...but after all, I was a good girl. Guilt smacked me across the cheek, as hard as my mother had hit me, but worse. Along with it came doubt, and along with doubt came self discernment. How cruel was I actually? Was I really the type of person who just let people down all day? Crushed the dreamer's dreams? Stilled the traveler's travels? Stole the romantic's romance? I didn't like that at all. But if that was what it took to become the person I wanted to be, I would face the challenge like a matador would a pack of bulls.

But that night I didn't want to worry about the criminal I was becoming. All I wanted was to watch a romantic comedy on Netflix that would make me laugh and cry at the same time while eating a tub of Ben and Jerry's. So Dammit to hell, that was what I would do.

I was all cozied up and more than prepared to watch "Can't Buy Me Love" when, of course, someone just had to bang their greedy fists on my door. I tilted my head back and practically screamed out a groan.

"Fine," I grumbled as I stood from the couch.

"Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine."

At the last minute, I thought how wonderful it would be if the person behind the door was the pizza guy. Oh how splendid! But then I actually opened it, and my hopes and dreams were shattered.

I hadn't realized it was raining outside until I saw his soaked, matted hair and nearly black jacket which used to be grey.

I sighed

"Oh so your an idiot too?" I mocked

"What?"

"Who walks to someone's house when it's raining?"

"It wasn't raining when I started." He, without my consent, brushed passed me and into my house. _My_ house.

I shut the door before growling,

"Your still an idiot."

He took one look at my warm hibernation spot. Just one, and his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly in an attempt at a chuckle, but I could see he was too flustered to laugh.

"Classy."

I wanted to spit on his polished shoes-oh wait...I wanted to spit on his _sneakers._ What kind of psychiatrist wears sneakers?

"Why are you here, Mr. Eaton-"

"Tobias,"

"My name's Tobias."

I rolled my eyes.

"Why are you here, Tobias?"

He leaned against the back of the couch and raked his hand through his damp hair.

"I'm here because I want to be, Beatrice. Isn't that enough of a reason?"

He peeled his jacket off and I couldn't keep the smile from forming on my face when I saw his nipples standing out prominently against his tight, tight shirt. Wow, must've been cold.

"You might wanna change your shirt there, buddy."

One of his eyebrows lowered.

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth in disapproval and came towards him, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it towards me, making him shuffle forward a little.

The cloth and skin separated for only a moment before it rested back into the place it was before, except not quite as tight. Not _nearly_ as tight.

I brushed his cotton tee with my hands, as if I was wiping off dirt.

"There," I prompted

"All better no-"

He was looking at me again. His lips were still parted, less than half an inch of space between them. If I was anyone else, I would've thought that look was blank, but I wasn't anyone else. He had looked at me like that when we first met. When we were at the dinner table. When my parents first told me he was my psychiatrist. He had no right to stare at me in such a way.

My nose twitched. I stepped back.

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you. I want to-"

"I don't care what you want!" I pronounced each word condescendingly, like I was scolding a child.

"Get out. Now."

He shook his head stubbornly

"I'm not leaving."

"I _will_ call the cops!" Hell no I wouldn't.

"And say what? Your psychiatrist won't leave your house?"

I hated that he was right, and hoped to God that that wouldn't become a regular thing.

"Where's your parents?"

"Not here."

He stroked his chin with his index finger.

"Alright," he clapped his hands, startling me.

"Lets watch some Netflix, then."

 **Authors note**

 **(Sigh) I loved writing this chapter. It was great to develop Beatrice's character a little more. I know it's a shame that her and Tobias had a fight, but WOW SHE'S FEISTY. Tell me in the comments what you guys think of her new and improved attitude, and what you think of that little moment that her and Tobias had with that nipple shirt. Hehe. Until next time,**

 **XxX**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I was starting to think that whole situation was a mistake for two very acceptable reasons.

1\. We were watching a horror film

2\. I absolutely, positively hated horror films

But I really had no choice in the matter since he had the remote caged under the palm of his hand. I also didn't want to embarrass myself by succumbing to the fragile, delicate, non-horror film watching person that I was.

"How'd it happen?" His voice was quiet as he stared intently at the screen. My blood ran cold, and not because the girl in the scene was about to open a closet that most definitely held a serial killer inside.

"My brother's death is none of your-"

"No,"

"I mean your cheek." He broke eye contact with the television so that they could land on the conversation's subject, my bruised cheek bone, which had probably turned a deeper shade of red when he did so.

"Oh...I feel down the stairs." I almost cringed at how lame my lie was.

"You fell down the stairs." He repeated, his voice laced with skepticism.

"Your cheek hit the edge of a step?" There it was again. I wished he would just come out and say it. " _Your a terrible liar and a terrible person."_ I would latch onto his every word, let them sink into me like quicksand.

I nodded. He evaluated the bruise for what seemed like eternity before turning back to the movie.

"That's very unlikely, since your steps are carpeted."

 _Busted_

"I am your psychiatrist, and as your psychiatrist, I demand to know how you got that bruise!"

We had been going at it for about an hour, with him making me feel like putty when he used all the vocals in his voice to scream, and me with my occasional nonsense babble/yelling. The sight was truly mortifying. It's not everyday you get into a heated discussion with your psychiatrist about a fake fight.

"Fine, ok? I'll tell you! Just promise me you won't do anything stupid afterwards."

He nodded, eyes widening with curiosity and shock. "Of course I won't."

I was very brisk with my explanation. I guess because I was hoping he would catch most of it."I was being a smart ass to this kid and he decided to punch me. That's it. It's all over now and I still don't give a shit. So let's just finish the movie, ok?"

At the time, I had no idea what was happening. The veins in his arms and neck protruded from his skin, very uncomfortably may I add. His breaths came labored and shallow. It was almost as if he was frozen in time. His feet stayed planted to the ground while he stared straight ahead into nothingness. It wasn't long before he grounded out,

"Who?"

"That doesn't matter." I answered dismissively.

"Beatrice Prior, you tell me right now who did that to you or so help me God-"

"Peter Hayes!" I blurted

His eyes narrowed in acknowledgement. "Peter Hayes did this to you?"

I found myself involuntarily nodding my head.

Peter Hayes was never a fan of mine. In sixth grade he "accidentally" set my back pack on fire. Thank god it was snowing that day. Everyone of my books was burnt to a crisp.

There was also the time in second grade when he told every one that I peed my pants, when I really just fell into a puddle during recess. Yeah...that was an interesting call home.

But I had long forgotten about those silly pranks.(Not really)

"Beatrice!" Tobias shook my shoulders. I hadn't realized how close he had gotten.

"What, what?"

"Come on," he said, grabbing my jacket and slinging it around my shoulders.

"Were going for a little drive."

"Where are we?" I asked as he put the car into park. It was so dark outside, I couldn't see a thing except for the road ahead when Tobias had the headlights on.

"Oh, were at Peter Hayes's house."

I was pretty sure I must've pulled something in my neck because of how fast my head spun towards him.

"What?"

He reached in the backseat. I heard the rustling of plastic before he pulled out several bags of toilet paper.

 _Oooooohhhh..._

"No..."

"Yes." He grinned

"But...but your my psychiatrist! Isn't this kind of...unprofessional?"

He placed a roll between his legs and turned toward me. His eyes held determination.

"Oh no, Beatrice. This is completely appropriate."

Proof! He was gone. And by gone I mean he jumped out of the car. I laughed when he did a so uncalled for but well needed somersault in front of the car, where I could see him.

He opened my door and held a finger to his lips, silencing my laughter.

I slithered out and immediately crouched to the ground, copying his stance.

"Ok," he whispered

"Do exactly what I do."

Together we tumbled and sneaked our way around Peter Hayes's lawn like the ninjas that we were. We rolled behind a bush and conspired our plan. Well, it was actually pretty simple. All I heard were the words, "everywhere", and "go." I got the gist.

When we finished the covering of toilet paper, the house itself no longer looked like a house, but a wrapped Christmas present.

"It looks magnificent." I marvelled at our handy work

"Hold on, we have one more thing left to do."

He gave me a fresh roll and held one for himself.

"Lets see who can throw the highest."

He went first, managing to land a roll far to high for me to one up.

"Is that all you got?"

He smiled devilishly at me and gestured toward the tree

"Go right ahead."

So I did. But then I learned that I had just made a big, fat, juicy mistake. Instead of it hitting the tree like it was supposed to, it hit a car. _His car_. For a second, just a second, there was silence. I was about to deflate my hiked up shoulders in relief, but then that second ended. And the car alarm went off.

We ran for the hills like we were being chased by Nazis.

I ran until I could no longer hear that blasting siren, until I lost the breath in my lungs, until sand whipped against my ankles furiously. I collapsed mid stride. I set my hand on my chest to feel the rapid beating of my heart.

 _Wow, haven't felt that in a long time._

A laugh bubbled to my throat, and I knew exactly why. Who knew you could have so much fun with your psychiatrist?

I heard Tobias's footsteps before his hand shot through my vision. He lifted me up and placed both of his hands on my shoulders.

His head dipped and his eyebrows shot up when he asked, "you ok?"

I nodded

"Hell yes."

And then I did something really, really unexpected

I grabbed his hand and pulled him to my side. His warm palm stroked against the back of mine appreciatively. His fingers fell comfortably into place between the spaces and it felt right. Almost as if his hand was made just for mine. Just for _me._ He grinned.

"Lets go."

 **Authors note**

 **Hi guys! This chapter was pretty exciting, huh? Question: what's your favorite movie? I'd love to know! Please let me know in the comments what you think of the story! Thanks guys! Until next time,**

 **XxX**


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